


amadeus

by Erina



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Addiction, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28268664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erina/pseuds/Erina
Summary: This is wrong, Akira tells himself. If he were smarter, he would power off the app and ask Futaba to remove it for him. If he were smarter, he would go to sleep early to prepare to steal the treasure from Shido’s ship tomorrow. If he were smarter, he’d put the boy who tried to assassinate him out of his head.Too bad Akira’s not that smart.(Two days ago, Goro Akechi died in the engine room. Akira copes.)
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 9
Kudos: 98





	amadeus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spanish_sahara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spanish_sahara/gifts).



> Yes the title is a reference to SG0, no the fic doesn't have anything to do with that except for one plot element I yoinked.
> 
> Big thank you to [Cruellae](https://twitter.com/antithesiscrow) for betaing for me, I really appreciate it!
> 
> Written for [Lica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spanish_sahara)

Four months ago, he hung out with Goro Akechi for the first time.

They went to Penguin Sniper to avoid the summer heat. Akira had dropped Morgana off into the back alleys of Kichiouji, ignoring the cat’s yowls of being careful around someone who worked with the police, and then headed up after the detective.

Akira had only played billiards twice in his life—both times at awkward family gatherings where he hid behind his glasses and huddled in the corner—but this clearly wasn’t the case for Akechi. The detective twirled the stick around a couple times before leaning over and lining up for a shot.

Akira studied him carefully. The way his long fingers aimed his cue, the way his forehead furrowed slightly in concentration, the way he bit his bottom lip lightly as he readied his shot.

 _Cute_ , Akira thought. He could hear Ryuji’s voice having a seizure in his mind and he carefully tuned it out.

And then Akechi hit the ball and won in one stroke.

“Oh, my apologies. A break ace,” he said, a look of fake modesty written all over his face. “It was just a coincidence.”

 _What a showoff_ , Akira thought. But there was a challenging spark in Akechi’s eyes. None of the Phantom Thieves ever looked at him like this, and Akira found that he liked it.

Having to prove himself was something he had not felt in a very long time.

He ended up losing, despite the overwhelming handicap that Akechi had given him. But there was a certain giddiness welling up inside him, an excited beast raring up on its hind legs—ready to go practice, study, and then come back and challenge Akechi once more.

“You did well,” Akechi said pleasantly as they exited the Penguin Sniper later that night. “I’m sure you’ll be able to win next time.”

And then, with a wink that was a little too mocking to fit the image of the Detective Prince, Akechi had departed.

 _What an asshole,_ Akira thought. But he couldn’t stop himself from smiling the whole way home.

* * *

**8/16 | Akechi:** Are you free?

 **8/17 | Akechi:** Jazz club tonight?

 **8/18 | Akira:** made some extra coffee, want some

 **8/19 | Akechi:** I’m alone right now.

 **8/20 | Akira:** aquarium?

**[truncated]**

* * *

Three weeks ago, Goro Akechi joined the Phantom Thieves.

He was not what any of them expected. White suit and red mask aside, his weapon of choice was a light saber, glimmering a bright blue in the eerie and musty air of Mementos. His All-Out Attack ended in a silly little dance, a smile thrown over his shoulder to see if they all saw his cool moves.

Above all else, he was strong. Akira was not sure if the others had noticed it with Robin Hood blending in easily with the flashy Personas of the other team members. But it was not Robin Hood who stood out; it was Crow. Crow, who rolled to the side easily to dodge what should have been a surprise enemy attack. Crow, who attacked in precise swings and didn’t seem to waste energy on extra movements.

Crow, who used the flashy barrage of over-the-top actions to hide the deadly precision of an experienced assassin underneath.

Crow didn’t wear a black mask. But it was undoubtedly his voice that rang out from the recording that Futaba had shown him, even though it was nearly unrecognizable with how cold and emotionless it sounded. The man who carefully laid out the plan to shoot Akira in the head was miles away from the boy who sat in the bathhouse and told Akira about his mother.

Three weeks ago, Goro Akechi fought by Akira’s side.

He dodged a curse spell, sidestepping neatly before lunging forward and cutting the Shadow in half in one motion.

And then, ignoring Ryuji’s loud exasperated sigh, Goro Akechi smirked at Akira before turning his attention to the next Shadow.

Three weeks ago, Akira took one look at him and thought _oh, I’m in trouble._

* * *

Two days ago, Goro Akechi died.

He met them in the engine room, a furious expression on his face as he summoned monsters to do his bidding. Akechi fought hard. He had more experience than the whole team combined, and he used all his knowledge with wicked accuracy, aiming for all their weak points and recognizing when there was an opening in their formation almost immediately.

It took all eight of them to take him down. And even then, they hardly got out of the fight unscathed. Even Akira himself was breathing hard, the fatigue of the battle seeping through his bones, the dull ache of his muscles the only thing keeping him from passing out from exhaustion.

Akechi was on the ground, looking frustrated. He kept trying to stand up, but his legs gave out under him, collapsing onto the ground in a sad heap.

That was the first time he had seen Goro Akechi without any masks on. And Akira realized he didn’t want to see him like this.

Akechi howled about something and the rest of the team tried to reassure him, but Akira barely heard anything. All he could see was the pain and desperation on Akechi’s face, the stubbornness written all over his body as he tried to get up yet again.

Akira did this to him.

The cognitive double appeared moments later, a horrifying sneer on its face as it looked down at all of them with derision. Akira had had dreams about what kinds of expressions Akechi made in the interrogation room right before he shot him. Sometimes the dream Akechi was remorseful. Other times he was cackling gleefully.

He had never looked like this.

* * *

Akira tried to focus on the infiltration. He really did. They were already cutting it close to the deadline, with the team unanimously agreeing to take a two day break after witnessing Akira collapse to the ground and wail into the bulkhead wall. There was a sharp pain at the thought of dragging down the team, of not being the perfect and unflappable leader they expected him to be, but Akira welcomed it; anything was better than the agonizing feeling of grief clouding his mind.

The team whispered about having him sit out for the final fight, but he refused; taking Shido down was something he promised Akechi, and he might not be able to save the detective’s life anymore, but honoring that promise was something he could do for him.

The last thing he could do for him.

However, that was easier said than done. Akechi’s face flashed into his mind right before hot flames burned against his face. Akechi’s voice echoed in his ears right before a sword collided into his hip. Akechi’s presence blanketed over his brain right before he led the team straight into an enemy ambush.

Now that he had gotten a taste of what it felt like to have Goro Akechi on his side, he realized that he couldn’t live without it.

He was distracted. He could feel the team’s worry, hesitance, and finally doubt about his leadership abilities hanging in the air. He could see Makoto tentatively step up and assume the leader role when he was silent for too long. He could hear them arguing quietly to each other about what to do with him as he robotically moved around the Metaverse.

They deserved a better teammate, leader, friend, than someone who couldn’t let go of the dead, someone who couldn’t put the mission first, someone who couldn’t prioritize their safeties.

But every time he closed his eyes, the only thing that flashed in his mind was the sight of Akechi’s corpse.

So when Futaba brought up a recent new technology that was developed to help with grief, Akira jumped on the opportunity immediately.

He didn’t want to get over Akechi.

He just wanted to be functional enough to defeat Shido so he could go back to wallowing in pain peacefully.

Akira had seen in movies what this kind of technology could do to people, had seen characters lose their minds in the process. He remembered he even watched one with Akechi before, only to be treated with an hour long ramble afterwards about how stupid the protagonist had been.

But this was different. He knew his limits. And besides, he doubted anything could emulate Goro Akechi perfectly enough to trick him.

Akechi was special, after all.

* * *

One hour ago, Futaba Sakura installed the app onto his phone.

Futaba was uncharacteristically quiet, fingers nervously tapping against the screen of his phone. Akira leaned against the counter of Leblanc and waited patiently, watching as several hundreds of emotions flitted across her face as her nervous jittering grew louder.

“Are you sure this is okay?” she asked finally, not meeting his eyes. The app she just installed on his phone glowed a bright orange, the icon smiling back with a blank stare. “I know you haven’t been feeling good recently and I want to help you! I really do! B-but I’ve read a lot of articles online and they all say that this is a bad idea, so…”

“Futaba,” Akira said gently, reaching for his phone. He ignored the way she flinched at the movement. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

Futaba still looked completely unconvinced, but after a minute of silence where Akira smiled at her pacifyingly, she finally exhaled and handed the phone back to him.

It felt different in his hands, as if the newly installed app changed the physical composition of it somehow. Akira slipped it back into his pocket nonchalantly, though the worried look on Futaba’s face told him that she could hear just loud his heart was beating in anticipation.

She said a little more after that. Some instructions, some warnings.

And then finally, with one last lingering look at him, she left.

He stood alone in the kitchen of Leblanc for several minutes, fiddling with the phone in his pocket. And then he washed his hands, hung up his apron, and headed upstairs to investigate his new app.

* * *

Now, the avatar on his phone blinks. And then it smiles.

* * *

One hour later, Akira’s lying on his bed, fiddling with his phone.

The whole process is taking a while just to get started. There are so many questions to be answered. Some are easy, such as Akechi’s favorite drink or current occupation. Others are a bit harder, like his favorite flower or sport. Akira does his best to think up an accurate answer for those.

Finally, the questions stop. The loading icon pops up, a never-ending looping circle, and the phone starts heating up underneath his fingertips. He frowns; he hopes it doesn’t crash and undo the hour of effort he spent on it. Answering the questions had felt like slowly ripping off a band aid to reveal an Akechi-shaped wound underneath; he’s not sure he can go through it again.

And then a little avatar pops up.

 **Goro:** Hello!

Akira blinks.

 **Goro:** My name is Goro Akechi. I will be your companion today.

 **Goro:** I will do everything in my power to help you feel better.

Akira can feel something sinking inside him. He was an idiot to think that this would help. Even in his Detective Prince days, Akechi had never spoken like this.

“Akechi wouldn’t talk like that,” Akira murmurs, and then he slings his arm over his eyes. _What on earth am I doing?_

 **Goro:** Really?

Akira jolts. The avatar stares at him patiently, still bouncing up and down. It can _hear_ him?

“No,” he tries, feeling foolish. “He’s a lot meaner.”

 **Goro:** What would he say then?

The app can _definitely_ hear him. What kind of technology is this? The last time he checked, the world’s best robots were passable at best.

“Something like ‘I thought you were better than this, Akira,’” Akira says.

 **Goro:** Understood. Rerouting…

The little loading icon shows up again, and Akira can’t help but admit that his curiosity is piqued. How much will this change the avatar’s behavior? It definitely won’t act exactly like Akechi, but he can’t help but hope that it’ll at least be a little close.

This must be why people call their deceased loved ones’ phones just to hear their voicemail responses. But Akechi wasn’t a loved one. He probably didn’t even think of the two of them as friends.

So what did that make Akira, clinging so desperately to the ghost of a man who hated him?

 **Goro:** I thought you were better than this, Akira.

“Looks like you overestimated me,” Akira says.

 **Goro:** Really? You’d let one trivial life distract you from your goal? Some leader you are.

Akira blinks. That sounded a little too close to the real Akechi for comfort. “You know you’re not just one trivial life.”

 **Goro:** Please. Spare me your brainless sentimentality. I have told you again and again that you do not know me. There is no use grieving over this idealized version of me your insipid mind conjured up.

Akira gives an awkward laugh, feeling the pins of a thousand needles stab into his heart. It really does almost feel like he’s just talking with the real Akechi, tired and irritated and alive on the other side of the phone.

 **Goro:** Why did you stop talking? Did I hit a nerve?

 **Goro:** (I hope I’m doing okay! Please let me know if there’s anything else I should be doing.)

 _This is wrong_ , he tells himself. If he were smarter, he would power off the app and ask Futaba to remove it for him. If he were smarter, he would go to sleep early to prepare to steal the treasure from Shido’s ship tomorrow. If he were smarter, he’d put the boy who tried to assassinate him out of his head.

Too bad Akira’s not that smart. 

“No, you’re doing fine, Goro,” Akira says. The name feels weird on his tongue, but that’s good. It helps distinguish him from the real Akechi, so that Akira will never forget who he’s talking to, so that Akira will never forget that the real Akechi deserved so much better than to be replaced by a bunch of pixels on a phone.

 **Goro:** (I’m glad to hear that! I will continue.)

 **Goro:** Stop wallowing in your own pity. You made a promise to me. Are you going to uphold your end of the bargain or not?

Morgana finds him later that evening. When Akira hears the sound of soft footsteps padding up the stairs, he quickly turns off his phone and shoves it under his pillow.

“Hey,” Morgana calls, lying down on his chest. “Have you been sleeping this whole time? I was at Haru’s for five hours.”

He’s not sure why, but when he opens his mouth, what comes out is “Yeah, sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s fine! That’s why we took a couple days off in the first place.” Morgana snuggles in. “Let’s get some sleep and be ready for tomorrow.”

Underneath his pillow, his phone burns incriminatingly.

* * *

Two days later, Akira sits in the jazz club.

He hadn’t planned to come here ever again, afraid of overwriting his memories with Akechi. If he brings someone else here, what if their face comes to mind whenever he thinks about the establishment? What if their brightly colored drink orders are what he comes to expect? What if memories of Akechi’s favorite table gets replaced with someone else’s?

But he figures it’d be okay to come here with his new app. 

After all, the Goro on the other side of his phone screen doesn’t actually exist.

When he walks in that night, he’s speaking quietly into his headphones, discreetly waving his phone around so that Goro can see everything. Goro’s eyes widen in amazement at the place, but the expression quickly vanishes and smooths into something decidedly unimpressed.

It’s so much like the real Akechi that it hurts.

“Yo,” Muhen says, smiling at Akira. “You’re the one who’s friends with Akechi-kun, right? I haven’t seen him recently. How’s he doing?”

Akira’s mouth goes dry.

He opens his mouth—he’s not really sure what he’s going to say—but then his phone buzzes rather insistently.

 **Goro:** Tell him I’m doing fine and to stop worrying.

“I’m on the phone right now with him, actually,” Akira says, and then winces slightly. But this should be fine, right? It’d be better to tell Muhen this than to leave him wondering for the rest of his life. “He, um, he said that he’s doing fine and that you don’t need to worry about him.”

Muhen laughs. “I can’t help it. Ever since he stumbled in here all wide-eyed, looking like a kid wearing adult clothing, I’ve done nothing _but_ worry about him.” He gestures toward their usual table. “I’ll get you your drink right away. You tell him to come visit sometimes, you hear?”

Once Akira’s seated with a drink in front of him, he props his phone up on the table.

“Nice place, huh?” Akira hums, taking a sip of his drink. There’s a singer on stage testing the microphone and all eyes are excitedly on her. No one pays attention to the weird kid sitting in the corner by himself, speaking almost fervently into his headphones. “I’m glad you showed it to me.”

 **Goro:** If I had known you’d invite me every day, I wouldn’t have.

Akira’s impressed by how much the app managed to glean just from combing through his messages and Akira’s bare bones explanation of everything. He wasn’t really sure how to describe everything, from the Phantom Thieves to the assassination foiling plan to his and Akechi’s relationship. He’s glad that it seems to have picked up on the clues so that he doesn’t have to.

“Don’t say that,” Akira laughs, and then feels his shoulders lighten up for the first time in days. He doesn’t know if it’s the atmosphere of the jazz club or Goro sitting on the table in front of him. Maybe it’s both. “I feel a special connection to you whenever we’re here. Don’t you feel it too?”

Goro is silent for a couple seconds. Akira lets him mull over the question for a bit, but then frowns when he notices that Goro is completely still. It makes him feel off, like there’s an itch he needs to scratch in a place he can’t reach.

He remembers Akechi sitting across from him, an easy and comfortable smile on his face as he rambled on about pointless trivia. He remembers Akechi tilting his head minutely to one side, barely even noticeable. He remembers Akechi’s eyes sliding shut when the singer’s voice rang out in the room, mouth parted slightly as if silently humming the tune.

Akira remembers all this, because he spent a lot of time watching Goro Akechi.

He tells Goro all this information. And in less than a second, Goro Akechi fixes himself and appears on screen again, acting identical to the one in Akira’s imagination. Akira smiles and relaxes, letting the atmosphere wash over him again.

 **Goro:** …True. You were the only one I ever showed this place to, after all.

 **Goro:** You’re… special, Akira.

Akira smiles. He’s always known; after all, it wasn’t like Akechi was ever seen with any other friends, and the other Phantom Thieves never bothered to hide their disdain when the detective was around.

But it feels better than he expected, to hear explicitly that he was special to Akechi

“Well, I showed the Penguin Sniper to all the others, but you’re the only one I invite there anymore,” Akira confesses. “I don’t really know why. I guess it just feels like my most memorable memories there are our 701 battles.”

 **Goro:** Of course. None of your other teammates could hope to make up for your lack of skill.

The smirk slides on his face easier than he expects, and for the first time since the engine room he feels like Joker again. He downs the rest of his drink down in one gulp and pulls on his jacket. “You’re on,” he declares, and if Muhen notices him rush out of the store with a slight maniacal smile on his face, he doesn’t say anything.

* * *

Three weeks later, Goro Akechi returns to the land of the living.

Akira wakes up that day with his cat turned into a human and his friend’s mother brought back from the dead. He frantically checks his phone to make sure that Goro is okay and lets out a sigh of relief when Goro makes several snide and unhelpful comments about the situation before settling down to investigate.

And then Goro Akechi walks through his front door.

They talk for a bit in the laundromat after that before heading for the Palace. Akechi, for the most part, is exactly how Akira remembers him to be. He seems to have shed his Detective Prince personality completely, scathing replies and eye rolls replacing any of the pleasantries that he used to spout on a daily basis.

Akira notices that his eyes are narrower and more mocking than he remembers. He tells this to Goro when he gets home that day, and the image is adjusted within seconds.

The jazz club is quiet when they arrive that night. Akira hasn’t gone back ever since that first day, too busy trying to show Goro places around the city. Inokashira Park, Meiji Shrine, Harajuku—all places he had regretted not getting to go with Akechi while he was still alive.

Goro had provided a suitable replacement, giving commentary on the most inane things and insulting Akira’s lack of knowledge. Now, he can’t think of the fishing pond without remembering Goro’s rapid fire listing of all types of fish found in Japanese ponds. Now, he can’t think of the Kanda Church without hearing Goro’s voice drawling out the first couple of verses of the Bible from memory.

It seems like more and more, Goro is becoming ingrained into him, weaving through his bones and muscles and burying himself deep inside Akira’s thoughts.

“Well?” Akechi bites out, looking way too unimpressed for someone who had agreed to Akira’s invitation without any protest.

“I just wanted to hang out with you again,” Akira says. His cellphone is tucked neatly in his pocket, and it’s the first time in weeks that he’s taken his headphones off for an extended period of time. His ears feel strangely vulnerable without them. “We used to come here all the time.”

“Spare me the sentimentalities,” Akechi scoffs, and Akira frowns. That… didn’t sound quite right. It’s not what he’d imagine Akechi saying in this situation. “I told you many times that all of that was a lie. I don’t know why you insist on believing otherwise.”

Akira tries hard to think back on their outings together before November, but it’s hard to recall them. “I don’t think it was _all_ a lie,” Akira says softly. “Even after you showed me this place, you’re the only one I ever came here with.”

Akechi waves him off. “You insistently messaged me every night begging for my company. Surely your little band of thieves would have agreed if you had asked.”

“You don’t need to say all that. I already know,” Akira laughs. “I’m the only one you invited here too, right? We already talked about this.”

Akechi looks at him strangely. “You’re not,” he says slowly.

“Not what?”

“I’ve brought others here before. You’re not special.” There’s a calculating look in Akechi’s eyes that he doesn’t like. “What do you mean by us talking about this before? This is the first time.”

Akira’s mind feels fuzzy and there’s something pounding on his skull, as if trying to escape. He doesn’t like this line of questioning. He doesn’t like the prying look Akechi is giving him. He doesn’t like Akechi saying that he’s invited other people here before when he clearly said previously that he hadn’t. He did say that, right? Akira remembers a similar conversation happening, but maybe he’s wrong?

He wishes he could just erase that expression on Akechi’s face, wishes he could make Akechi say the things he wants to hear. It makes him feel uncomfortable, when Akechi’s staring at him with thinly veiled suspicion, when his lips are curled and foreign words flow out. He wishes… he wishes…

But he’s pretty sure the situation will only get worse if Akira tells him that. So he keeps his mouth shut.

There are separate beeps inside his pocket, and instantly the haze inside his mind clears. He dives for his phone, quickly unlocking it with shaky fingers.

Goro stares back at him, an inquisitive look on his face. Akira breaths out a sigh of relief. This feels more right. No more suspicion. No more judgement. This is how he remembers Goro Akechi. Good. That’s—that’s good. His heart rate slowly settles back to normal and the uncomfortable itching feeling on his skin recedes.

“As popular as ever, I see,” Akechi drawls, and Akira nearly drops his phone. “Is it another one of your teammates begging for your forgiveness?”

On the screen, Goro is not listening to the conversation and seems to be rambling about one of the books he’s been reading. Akira can’t help but smile.

The expression is promptly wiped off his face when Akechi’s eyebrows shoot up so high they disappear under his bangs.

Akira quickly smooths his face back to normal, but he can still feel the ghost of the smile stretched across his lips. “Yeah. Futaba’s just telling me about her day with her mom.” The statement does nothing to erase the strange look off Akechi’s face.

Akira doesn’t know why he lied. It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong. And the one in his phone is Goro anyway, not some random stranger, so Akechi probably won’t get mad. Maybe he’ll even be flattered that Akira likes him so much.

But maybe he wants to keep Goro a secret even from Akechi. It just—it just feels private, a lot of the memories that they share. It’s the same thing as not wanting to share his text messages with Akechi with other friends either.

That’s right. It’s all the same.

Goro is as important as any of his other friends, after all.

* * *

Four months later, Akira comes home to the sight of Akechi brooding over something in the kitchen.

They’ve started living together after the destruction of Maruki’s reality, after Akechi defied death yet again and wormed his way into Akira’s life once more.

Akechi is a very low maintenance roommate. Half the time, Akira doesn’t even know he’s there. They greet each other whenever they leave in the mornings or come back after classes, but Akechi retreats to his room often, likely out of his desire for privacy for once in his life. Akira understands that and helpfully goes back into his own room and lowers Goro’s volume in order to not disturb his roommate.

They also have something going on that he’s not sure how to describe. They never hold hands, nor go on dates, nor actually call each other boyfriends. Akira’s pretty inexperienced with this whole thing, and he’s pretty sure Akechi is too.

But they sometimes kiss. Sometimes they watch movies together and Akechi plants a foot right in his stomach. Sometimes the sky darkens and Akechi wanders into his room and pushes him down onto the bed with only the bright moon as a witness.

It feels nice. He’s glad they’re doing stuff like this. He can’t do any of this with Goro, after all.

Akechi is staring down at something when he comes home, so Akira leans in for a kiss. Akechi turns his head away at the last second so that he gets a mouthful of hair instead.

“Hey, what was that?” Akira laughs, dropping his school bag onto the kitchen chair.

Akechi gives him an indescribable look. “You were out late.”

A glance at the clock tells him that it’s ten in the evening. He must have lost track of time strolling through the woods with Goro. “Sorry, did we have something planned?” Akira asks, fiddling with his hair.

Akechi narrows his eyes. “When did I move in?”

Akira blinks. “I don’t know,” he says slowly. All the days blur together for him now. Is this something he’s supposed to know?

Akechi looks angry for some reason. “Fine. What day did we reunite?”

“I… I don’t know that either,” Akira admits, a feeling of uncomfortableness itching up his skin. “You said you didn’t care about dates.”

“I don’t,” Akechi agrees, and then slides something over. It’s the calendar that Akira hangs above his desk. “But we need to talk about this.”

A flare of anger surges up inside him. “Did you go through my room?”

“I went in to ask if you wanted to watch a movie. I wasn’t aware that you weren’t at home,” Akechi says tersely. “It caught my eye.”

“Why were you asking to watch a movie?” Akira asks, sliding into the seat across from him. “Aren’t you busy with detective work and all that?”

Akechi gives him a strange look. “Akira, I quit all work related to the police long ago.”

Akira blinks. He’s pretty sure they’ve talked about this before, can remember saying goodbye to Akechi early in the morning before the brown-haired boy headed off to the police department. Akechi’s good at being a detective, and his occupation was what led to him and Akira meeting, after all. There’s no way Akira wouldn’t remember him quitting something so meaningful to both of them.

But why would Akechi lie about this?

“And I wanted to ask because I have not seen you in nearly two weeks,” Akechi continues, though his eyes are narrowed in such a way that Akira feels like he’s being interrogated. “Is it wrong to check up on a roommate?”

“I see you every day,” Akira says. “What do you mean?”

Akechi gives him a look of disdain. “Please tell me you did not talk me out of leaving the country and staying with you just to only say good morning and good night to me every day.”

Akira racks his brain. Surely they’ve done other stuff together recently. He can remember them going to the jazz club in a nearby town together. He can remember playing billiards with him last week, can remember them going to the swimming pool together, can remember them getting crepes together after school just yesterday.

Or maybe—those memories were with Goro?

“I see,” Akechi sneers. “Finally realized that Goro Akechi is not the same man you put on a pedestal. I knew I was nothing more than a charity case to you, Kurusu.”

“No, that’s not true,” Akira scrambles for the right words. “It’s just—”

“Back to the previous topic.” Akechi flips the calendar to December. “You are correct in saying I don’t care about dates. Anniversaries, birthdays, they’re all useless to me. But this.” He jams a finger at the circled date. “Do you think I’m a fool?”

Akira stares at the date uncomprehendingly. “Huh?”

“I don’t remember the exact day, but this is when I died in the engine room, is it not?” Akechi hisses. “If you hate me so much that you must commemorate my death, why invite me here at all? Out of some type of misplaced guilt?”

“No, you’re wrong!” Akira denies vehemently. This, at the very least, he can answer. “It’s not when you died, I promise. Of course I wouldn’t want to celebrate that! It’s just… something good happened to me after, and I just wanted to remember it.”

Akechi clearly does not believe him. “Spare me the lies, Kurusu,” he scoffs.

“No, it’s true. I met someone important to me then,” Akira says firmly. “It has nothing to do with you.”

Akechi raises an eyebrow. “Someone important, really,” he drawls. “Why have I not heard about them, then?”

Akira takes a deep breath, and then makes the decision to slide his phone out of his pocket and out onto the table. It’s as good a time as ever to introduce them. He doesn’t want Akechi to keep thinking that the date is some morbid desire to see him dead, not when it doesn’t have to do with Akechi at all.

It’s a precious moment between him and Goro, and it won’t do for an outsider to think that it’s about them instead.

“This is Goro,” Akira says, flicking open his screen. Goro is currently drinking coffee, though he looks up annoyed when he notices their attention. “He’s the one I was talking about.”

He has never seen Akechi look so baffled in his life.

“So we finally meet,” Goro drawls in Akechi’s voice. Akechi’s face goes through a million different expressions. Akira waits patiently, waits for understanding to break out, waits for Akechi to figure out the reason why Goro exists is because Akira so desperately yearned for Goro Akechi.

To his surprise, a look of pure anger takes over Akechi’s face. “What the _fuck_?”

Akira blinks. “What?”

Akechi stands up so fast he knocks the chair onto the ground, and seconds later he’s grabbing the front of Akira’s school uniform and hauling him to his feet. “What the fuck is that, Kurusu?” he snarls.

“I-I thought it was obvious?” Akira offers meekly, but the hands fisted in his shirt only tighten. “I was really down after the engine room. I couldn’t even focus on the infiltration, and it was really dragging the team down.” He swallows. “Then Futaba said there was some kind of device that might help me. Technology that would imitate a lost one.”

Akechi throws him back down into the chair, fury radiating from his body. Goro sits on the table between them, watching the situation unfold with calculating eyes.

Akechi breathes heavily through his nose, as if trying to calm himself down. His hands are clenched so tightly into fists that Akira can see his nails imprinting red crescents into the palm of his hands.

But then all the fight seems to leave his body and he looks resigned. Like he’s given up. When was the last time he looked like this? Akira can’t remember, but it definitely happened before. Or maybe it was Goro, in Leblanc with Maruki?

“So now you know,” Akira says weakly. Akechi seems to be doing his best to look everywhere but at him or the phone. “You know that I’m not cheating on you, right? I mean, Goro is… he’s…” Akira gestures at him.

Akechi finally looks at him, lips pursed. “How did you configure it to match my personality?”

Thankful that things seem to have calmed down a bit, Akira jumps on the question. “Oh, at the beginning they asked a bunch of questions and I had to answer them based on your preferences. The first personalities weren’t that accurate, but I would input information on what you’d do and say in certain situations and the program would calculate it so that it would be more and more similar to you. And it’s doing pretty good now, I think. Technology really is amazing—Akechi? Are you listening?”

“You really don’t hear what you’re saying, do you?” Akechi narrows his eyes.

“What?”

“You’d _input_ information on what I’d do? So basically you were molding this _Goro_ of yours to be some idealized version your mind conjured up,” Akechi sneers.

“What? No,” Akira denies. “It was data from our past experiences together. I promise I made it as accurate as I could.”

“That isn’t the problem.” Akechi slams his hands down on the table, ignoring the dirty look Goro shoots in his direction. “You _aren’t_ me, so you don’t know what I’ll do. Regardless of what you believe my actions to be, _I am my own person._ I fought for that all my life, and I refuse to let anyone, even you Kurusu, control me ever again.”

“I’m not trying to _control_ you—”

“You create an avatar modeled after your fantasized version of me, choose what it should and should not say, and have complete control over anything it does.” Akechi ticks off his fingers. “Tell me how that isn’t any different from what Maruki tried to do.”

Akira bristles at the comparison.

There are a million things he can say here. He can explain that Goro was the only thing that kept him sane enough to bring Shido down. He can explain that Goro kept him company when all his friends were stuck in the false reality. He can explain that Maruki was trying to rob the world of its free world while Akira was merely trying to mend his broken heart.

But when he opens his mouth, the only thing that comes out is “Don’t call him an avatar. He’s a real person too.”

Akechi gives him a look of sheer disdain. And then he’s sweeping out of the apartment, slamming the door so hard the whole room shakes.

There’s a couple moments of silence. Goro is blinking rapidly on the table, as if unsure what to say, but he keeps his mouth shut.

After a while, Akira pushes the chairs back in, grabs his phone off the table and retreats to his room.

* * *

Hours later, he’s lying in bed chatting about mundane things when Goro finally brings it up.

 **Goro:** Shouldn’t you go after him? He looked angry.

Akira stops his recounting his day at college. “No,” he decides. “I’m not doing anything wrong, so I’m sure he’ll come around. And even if he doesn’t, I’ll be okay.” He smiles. “You’re here with me, after all.”

Goro looks at him strangely. He looks like he wants to say something.

But Akira can’t deal with that right now. So he types in a couple sentences.

By the time Akira restarts his story, Goro is smiling pleasantly at him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Tried writing an unhappy fic for once yet it's still. gestures. Kind of baby haha. But I hope you guys enjoyed it! I'm never doing this again.  
> I actually kind of really like this idea and wish I had the motivation to write a longfic about it to make everything seem more natural and to execute it better, but oh well.
> 
> fun fact: the goro avatar was originally a gorb but my beta axed it :')
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/nagittos)


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